"Sam, damn it, we’re trying. We’re reaching out to you. Why are you making this harder?" Sam glared at her mother.

"Can we come home?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous. Jane blinked at her for a moment before shaking her head reluctantly.

"No," she said simply. Sam’s glare grew hotter.

"Than that’s why I’m making this hard," she growled in a barely recognizable voice. "You two want to talk to us, but on YOUR terms. With a mediator and we can’t even come home. You don’t want to understand, you want to `fix’ us," Sam accused angrily.

"Sam, you’re twisting this," Jane started.

"Am I?" Sam countered. "Am I really? Tell me, Mom, ultimately, what do you want out of the therapy? Do you really want to understand what motivates me to love Brooke and why I’m gay or do you want me to change?" Jane had no answer for her.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," Sam snapped. Jane handed her a small business card.

"Here’s the name of the therapist and the time of the appointment, Sam. Mike and I will be there. We hope you and Brooke will show up too," she said sadly before turning to leave.

"Mom, when did we fall apart?" Sam asked suddenly. Jane turned back around to face her and shrugged.

"I don’t know, Sam. But then, I don’t know you anymore either," she said. And then she left. Sam shut the door and then slid down to the floor against it. Brooke came out of the bathroom and sat down next to her.

"Aw, Sammy," she said as she hugged Sam gently. Sam sobbed against her as the exchange with her mother finally got to her.

"You overheard?" Sam asked between sobs. Brooke nodded.

"Everything. And that last shot was uncalled for," she commented angrily. She was mad at Jane for saying such a thing.

"So what do you think, Brooke? Think we should go?" Sam sniffled. Brooke shrugged.

"I dunno, Sam. I think it’s gonna be an ambush," she admitted. Sam nodded.

"Me too," Sam agreed.

"But, I suppose we should at least give it one try."